 That, wisely doating, ask'd not why it doated, And ours the unknown joy, which knowing kills. But now I find, how dear thou wert to me; That man is more than half of nature's treasure. Of that fair Beauty which no eye can see, Of that sweet music which...  Poems: Vol. I. - Page 1by Hartley Coleridge - 1833 - 157 pagesFull view - About this book
 | American poetry - 1949 - 2076 pages
[ Sorry, this page's content is restricted ] | |
 | American poetry - 1937 - 2066 pages
[ Sorry, this page's content is restricted ] | |
| |
